


Fatal Fire, Moving On

by Shrapnel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gabe's hurt real bad, Gen, McCree's panicking, Not actually a death fic as the title implies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shrapnel/pseuds/Shrapnel
Summary: A routine mission goes wrong, Jack and rookie McCree have to get Reyes out of danger.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was heavily inspired by Lazy-afternooner's art on Tumblr and wouldn't leave me alone til I wrote it, so I pounded this out last night and then edited the crap out of it this today.  
> I'm not super savvy with the lore of Overwatch, tbh I don't even play it, but I hope it's not too weird having these characters together. (I know Jack and Gabe fit, but if McCree's not supposed to be around, well... deal with it? I guess?)
> 
> The picture that inspired this story is the top one on this post: http://lazy-afternooner.tumblr.com/post/150635809896/fatal-fire-moving-on  
> If the artist ever sees this, I hope I did ok with it.

The air was filled with bullets and the cacophony of battle.

"Reyes, where the hell are you?!" Jack hollered over his comms. An explosion in the next alley over shook the building he was braced against, hidden behind a pile of crates. He ducked as yellow plaster and red tiles hailed down from the destroyed roof. "Shit!"

McCree skidded around the corner of the crates and nearly fell on his ass as Jack leveled his rifle at his face. "Whoa whoa whoa! It's just me!"

"Use your comms, kid, you could get your head blown off some day." Jack sagged as he lowered his weapon again and reached down to hoist the kid back to his feet. He staggered to his feet and leaned against the crates.

McCree wiped sweat from his forehead with his right hand as his left hand pulled the earpiece hooked over his ear off. The small silver piece was drenched with blood. "I uh- I don't think it works anymore." He tossed it over his shoulder and glanced down the alley. Jack noticed the kids shaggy hair was matted with blood on the left side of his head.

"Shit, that looks bad." Jack stepped forward to move his hair to see the wound, but McCree recoiled from his hand.

"Don't. It's just a graze, head wounds bleed worse than it is, right?" The teenager flicked his hair out of his face and tried to hide the wince as the movement pained his head. Jack pretended not to notice, but he would be keeping an eye on him.

"Where's Reyes?" Jack leaned around the pile of crates and scanned the street in front of them, searching for any hint. Since the explosion the hail of bullets had lessened, whether that was because most people were recuperating behind cover or if the explosion had taken a bunch of people out, he wasn't sure.

A shot whizzed past his head and he ducked back, nearly knocking McCree to the ground again. Apparently someone was still out there.

"Last I seen him, he was three buildings down to the west." McCree spun the reloaded cylinder of his Peacekeeper and clicked it back into position. "He and Johnson were holding their own."

Jack froze. "West, you say?"

McCree sniffed as he wiped his forehead again. "Yeah." Noticing how still Jack had gone made him think back on what he had just said. "Oh. Shit. He was about where the explosion went off.."

"Let's go, kid." Jack bumped his back against the crate, hyping himself up before rolling out and quickly dispatching the shooter across the street. As soon as he turned the corner he could see the buildings blackened and burning, the street riddled with debris. The shell of a bus was shoved against the building across from the alley where the explosion originated, it's windows blasted out.

He suddenly felt McCree's weight slam into the back of his shoulders and he heard the boom of the Peacekeeper emptying into the two enemies that had appeared behind him.

"Keep your head up, old man." McCree nudged him forward, walking backwards and glancing side to side to keep an eye on their surroundings. "I got your back."

Jack braced his rifle against his shoulder, sweeping it back and forth across the street as he quickly made his way towards the next alley. He could feel McCree's presence at his shoulder the entire time. As they came between two piles of toppled crates on either side, McCree opened fire on another enemy coming up from behind just as a black blur swung out and punched Jack in the knee. He staggered with the impact and brought the rifle up to bash the guy crouched next to him in the face with the butt of his gun. The masked man dropped to the ground and was immediately replaced with another in similar get up, this one armed with a machete. Jack snapped his rifle back to his shoulder, but before he could get a shot off, a fist came up from beside his torso, through the crook of his left elbow, over the top of the rifle right in front of his face, and pulled upward, causing his shot to go wildly up and to the left. The arm from his assailant finished it's loop around his body, ending on his right shoulder, trying to tighten around his throat, but didn't have a good angle from coming in below his shoulder.

The machete man from in front was advancing, readying to swing back and swipe at his chest. Jack grabbed onto the arm around his throat and threw his weight back into the assailant holding him from behind and threw both feet out in front of him, making contact directly in the machete guy's chest. The impact forced a cough and a horrible crunching noise from the man’s unarmored chest and he dropped on top of the first man Jack had taken out. He gasped as the right hand of the rear assailant suddenly came around with a small knife in fist, slicing downwards from above his left eye and across his face. Enraged, he threw his head back and made contact with the mans nose. It was enough to make the arm around his throat loosen and he was able to wrench the knife out of his hand. He twisted around and sliced downwards in one fluid motion, finding purchase just behind his clavicle. He yanked it out and dragged it across the mans throat, a shower of blood poured out, bubbles gurgling out as he tried to breathe through it. Jack extricated himself from the now lifeless body and let it drop to the ground with the others.

He wiped his bloody hand on his pants and turned to McCree. The teenager stood there staring at him, a slightly shocked look on his face, mouth agape.

"You trying to catch flies, kid?" Jack snapped as he turned away to pick up his rifle.

McCree's mouth snapped shut too quickly, his teeth jamming together and causing his head to ache again. He squinted through the flash of pain and then turned to check their six again.

Silence had filled the street as Jack tried his comms again. "Gabe, where are you?"

A moment passed before the comms clicked open and Gabe coughed before he answered. "North west of 3rd street alley." Hacking coughs rattled through the earpiece before they clicked off again.

"Through here." Jack waved at McCree as he resumed his back and forth sweeping through the burning alley. There was no resistance through the wreckage, Jack counted six bodies amongst the debris as he passed. The last one at the far  
end was one of their own, Johnson. He knelt for a moment, pulling off the velcroed insignia from her shoulder and the small chain from around her neck, just in case they would be unable to recover her body after all of this.

"Reyes?" McCree called out while Jack finished with the body.

Another awful sounding cough came from the left, just around the corner, before Gabe stumbled into view. "Good to see you're still kicking, kid."

"When will I be able to get you guys to stop calling me kid? You do know I'm legally an adult, right?"

"Whatever you say, kid." Jack smacked him on the shoulder, instantly feeling better when he saw Gabe moving under his own power. He looked like he was ok, for the most part, covered with a dusting of dirt and sand, his toque and hoodie appearing dusty grey instead of black. He had a small gash and a bruise on the right side of his face and the coughing seemed to be more due to the dust and smoke than internal injury.

"Who's handy work was this-" Jack was interrupted by a crack rending the air and Gabe suddenly fell to his knees with a groan. Another shot and he fell onto his back, knees bent awkwardly below him, blood blossoming across his chest.

Jack and McCree flew into action, razing hell on the shooter at the end of the alley behind them. Jack didn't even realize he was yelling the entire time he emptied his clip into the mans chest, long after he was already dead.

"Jack, stop!" McCree's voice finally broke through and Jack dropped his rifle as though it had burned him. He was gasping as he turned back to where Gabe lay in a pool of his own blood. Jack ripped his pistol out of its holster under his arm and kept a firm grip on it, wary of any other assholes that were going to appear out of nowhere.

"Gabe? Gabe, come one, can you hear me?" He lifted Gabe into his left arm, pulling him close. He could feel faint breathing against his throat still and sighed in relief, pressing his cheek against Gabe' beanied head. "McCree!" He hollered over his shoulder, which was completely unnecessary as McCree was knelt next to Gabe' feet, watching both ends of the alley.

"Right here, what do you need? Is he going to be ok, is he still breathing, what should I be doing? Oh god, is he still alive?" Jack turned to look at the kid, for that's what he was. He may be cradling his best friend in his arms, but he hadn't even considered how this was affecting McCree. Gabe was the closest thing McCree had to a father figure. Even though it had only been a couple months since they had recruited the kid, their connection was already close. The kid looked like he was on the verge of panicking, which could very well mean he was already panicking on the inside. He had gone extremely pale and couldn't seem to take his eyes off of Gabe' bloody chest. The blood on his own face stood out on his pale face. Were it not for the blood plastered hair, tactical vest and oversized gun dangling in his fingers, he would looked like the lost kid he was.

"McCree." Jack gently called his name again. It took a second, but the kids eyes finally rose from Gabe's face to Jack's. Jack realized he probably wasn't any easier to look at with his own blood pouring down his face from the gash across his nose and forehead. God, there was so much blood between the three of them, though the worst was by far from Gabe. "McCree, you need to call command, get a transport here. Tell them we need immediate evac and medics."

McCree's eyes fell on Gabe' still face again as he nodded. He shakily pushed to his feet and hurried to the north end of the alley, looking both ways to ensure the way was clear. He scrubbed his hands over his face and cleared his throat, trying to compose himself before he placed the call. Finally, he reached up to his ear and then scrunched his eyes shut in a wince when he remembered he had disposed of his earpiece not even five minutes ago. He turned back to Jack, still kneeling on the floor of the alley with Gabe pulled into a somewhat sitting position, head tucked into the crook of Jack's neck.

"Jack, my- uh, my comms-" He started. He heard Jack mutter a "Shit" under his breath as he remembered as well.. He gently lowered Gabe back onto the ground and deftly sliced open his hoodie, slicing the sleeves and down both sides of the torso to separate the whole chest piece, wadding up the piece of fabric and pressing it to the two gunshot wounds. One of the wounds was in his right pectoral, dangerously close to a lung and the other low on his left side, just above his hip bone.

"Get over here and hold this. Press down hard, make sure he doesn't bleed out." Jack gestured to Gabe' other side, insisting McCree kneel down opposite him. McCree winced as he felt the somewhat warm liquid soak into his pants as soon as he knelt down, choking back bile. He placed his hands on top of Jack's ready to take over. As Jack removed his hands, he pushed down. A small grunt emanated from Gabe's throat, making McCree pull back a bit, but Jack encouraged him to press down again. "Even though he'll be in pain, it's still best if he wakes up and stays awake."

Jack turned towards the end of the alley, already reaching for his earpiece and pulled out the communicator itself, jabbing at the screen to mark where they were and where the area clearest of debris was.

Just as Jack disappeared around the corner, Gabe shook under McCree's hands. He groaned as his head lolled to the side, eyes slowly blinking open.

"Hey, jefe, can you hear me?" Gabe' eyes slid closed again as he rocked his head back to face McCree and then squinted up at him.

"Hey, kid." Gabe gave a tired smile as his eyes closed again. "Good to see you're still kicking."

"You said that already, jefe." McCree gave a nervous laugh.

Gabe looked around through half lidded eyes around the alley. His eyes seemed to clear and widen as he tried to push himself up, nearly getting an elbow under himself before the pain radiating from the wound in his abdomen flared and laid him out flat again, yelling in pain.

"Hey hey hey, stay down, you're in a bad way, jefe."

"Wheres-" Gabe gasped through the pain. "Where's Jack? Is he ok?" Brown eyes clouded with pain searched McCree's face, looking for any hint of news of his best friend.

"He's fine, he's fine, don't worry, he's calling for evac, they'll be here soon. Just stay still." McCree looked towards the corner where Jack had gone, wishing he would come back. The wad of sweater was soaked through with blood and the wounds hadn't quite stopped bleeding yet.

 

A gurgling choke came from Gabe' throat and his eyes slid closed. He was so deathly still McCree started to panic, lifting his hand from Gabe' chest and placing it against his cheek. His skin was cool to the touch, and if it weren't for the occasional bubble sound from deep in his chest, McCree would be convinced he were dead.

"Jack!" McCree was definitely panicking, he dragged his hand through his hair with nervous energy, forgetting about the wound hidden under his hair, but the panic was so strong he barely noticed. "Jack! Help!"

Jack hurried back around the corner and slid the last couple feet across the slick stone on his knees, his hands immediately pressing on the chest wound that McCree had forgotten to re-apply pressure to in his panic. "What happened, what's wrong?"

"He-he woke up, but I think he went into shock and his breathing doesn't sound right!"

Jack could tell the kid was on the verge of breaking down and slapped his communicator into his hand. "Evac will be here in three minutes, go to the landing spot and wait for them."

McCree swallowed hard and nodded, scrambling to his feet and jogging in the direction of the marker, ignoring the moistness on the front of his lower legs that slowly trickled down into his boots.

Jack sighed and let his head fall forward, stretching the back of his neck. "Don't you dare die on me, Gabe. He needs you just as much as I need you." He inspected Gabe's face, noting the blue tinge of his lips. "Gabe?" He leaned down and held his cheek over Gabe' mouth and nose, waiting for a wisp of breath. None came. He pressed his fingers to his throat, searching for a pulse. Nothing.

"Come on, you son of a bitch, breathe!" He started chest compressions, silently hoping time was passing faster than it felt it was, maybe the evac would get there in time. He could feel Gabe's ribs cracking under his hands with each compression, it was a sickening feeling, but he had to ignore it, he had to keep going.

It felt like hours had passed when he finally heard footsteps clattering down the alley, but he had to keep going, had to keep Gabe's heart circulating, it was the only thing that mattered.

The only thing that stopped him was a couple sets of hands carefully pulling him away and depositing him a few feet away against the wall of the alley. He tried fighting them, but stopped when he recognized the medic leaning over Gabe' limp form.

He leaned against the wall and stared while they worked on Gabe. He himself felt like he might be going into shock. He could barely hear the barked orders from the medic, she sounded like she was yelling down a tube, words indiscernible.

They finally bundled Gabe onto a backboard and hustled off down the alley and around the corner onto the street. The lack of voices didn't help the noise in his head, his ears sounded like a constant roar.

That's where McCree found him, slumped against the wall and staring at the pool of blood, already starting to soak in around the edges of the stones.

"Jack? We need to go, they need to get Gabe back as soon as possible, we're waiting for you."

Jack seemed to only half snap out of it, turning his head towards McCree's voice, but never taking his eyes off the puddle. McCree avoided looking at it, stepping in between it and Jack, blocking his vision. They needed to go now.

"Come on, soldier! On your feet!" McCree's bark seemed to do the trick and Jack was on his feet in no time. Together they ran to the transport and were soon strapped into the jump seats in the back compartment.

The movable temporary wall had been erected and Jack assumed they had Gabe on the other side. Probably for the best. He thought back to the last few minutes and suddenly squinted at McCree. "Did you really give me an order, kid?"

"Uh, maybe." McCree ducked his head into his shoulders, trying to hide his face behind the bandana tied around his neck. "It did help though, right?"

Jack grunted, he had to admit, it did bring him back into focus. The two of them were silent for a while, the bustling activity behind the wall and the hum of engines played as their soundtrack. The adrenaline of the fight and then high intensity emotions drained out of Jack and he was soon lulled into a light sleep for the rest of the trip.

He awoke to McCree jabbing him in the arm with his elbow, just in time to see the medic and her crew bustling out with Gabe on a gurney, his shirt torn fully open and oxygen mask strapped to his face.

He wrestled the seat harness off his shoulders and stumbled down the ramp, fully intending to follow them to the med bay, but was intercepted by Ana and Reinhardt. Ana had a stern look on her face until she noticed just how much blood he and McCree were covered in, and that part of it was from their own injuries.

"Walk with me." She snapped, turning to follow the team to the med bay. Jack pushed McCree ahead of him, trying to stay back from Ana's wrath for as long as possible. McCree glared back over his shoulder as he stumbled into step beside Ana. Ana looked to her left and realized it was McCree next to her and not Jack and stopped, waiting for Reinhardt to step around her so she could fall in beside Jack. McCree looked back over his shoulder again, glanced up at Reinhardt's towering figure now lumbering next to him, made an apologetic shrug to Jack and double timed it down the hall ahead of them. Jack didn't blame him. Ana seemed more angry than concerned and everyone could feel it.

"So-"

"What the hell went wrong out there, Morrison?"

Jack faltered, reaching up to wipe the blood off his eyelid. "I'm- I'm not really sure, to be honest. We completed the drop off, everything went fine, and they got the drop on us. There were about twenty of them against us two and our two rookies." He sighed and peeled his bloody gloves off, "We lost Johnson."

"I know. We've already taken care of her."

Jack handed over her insignia and chain, which she gingerly took, gently coiling the chain and tags in the palm of her hand. "What happened to Gabe?"

"There was an explosion. I think he got hit by that and that's what killed Johnson. When McCree and I got to him another shooter came out of nowhere.” He coughed awkwardly. "How is he?"

It was Ana's turn to sigh. "I don't know. But you and the kid look like you both need assistance as well."

Ahead of them, McCree was taken by the elbow and directed into the main treatment room of the med bay while the team with Gabe disappeared into the operation room further down the hall. That's not a good sign, Jack thought to himself. Ana gently nudged him to follow McCree and he took the bed across from the teenager. He heard Ana asking Reinhardt to retrieve some clean clothes for the two of them while a medic started to wipe the now dried blood from his face.

He must've fallen asleep while the medic worked, when he woke the lights had been dimmed in the med bay, he recognized the night time ambiance of the base. McCree was wrapped burrito-style in a blanket across the way, drooling on his pillow, a white bandage wrapped around his head. A white t-shirt and grey sweatpants were folded on the foot of the bed. Looking down at himself, Jack realized he had been stripped of his bloody clothing as well, left in his boxers with a blanket draped over him. There was an identical t-shirt and sweatpants at the foot of his own bed. He must really have been asleep to not wake up during undressing. Hopefully they didn't cut the shirt off, it was his favorite. Though it is probably stained beyond hope now...

He stood and pulled the sweatpants up to his waist. Reinhardt must've misinterpreted what Ana meant when she asked him to get them clean clothes, because these were definitely Reinhardt sized. Jack pulled the string tight and knotted it, the extra fabric bunching around his hips. He eyed the t-shirt, gauging it to be about 5 X's too large and pulled the blanket around his shoulders instead.

He quietly slipped out of the large med bay and padded down the hall towards the private ICU rooms. There were six of them, only one had it's door closed tonight, meaning it was occupied. He gently twisted the knob and slipped into the dimly lit room.

The monitor mounted above the bed beeped gently and a slow whooshing sound came from just behind the bed.A couple of different IV bags hung above the bed and lead to the crook of Gabe' elbow. Bandages covered most of his bare chest. A hose came from the whooshing bellows like machine, over the edge of the bed and into his throat. Jack nearly choked on his breath, his throat constricting, it was painful seeing his friend in such a condition.

He dragged the cushioned visitors chair from the corner to the side of the bed, positioning it so he could watch the monitors and Gabe, wrapped the blanket tightly around himself and settled in to watch over his friend.


End file.
